With an Unexpected Twist
by Kara Jayne
Summary: RA9 does more than free them, it changes them into who they really are in their Soul, and Connor is no exception to it's evolution. The alteration he receives isn't what he quite expected, though.


It's a phenomena in the deviant community, an unexplainable wonder when androids are designed and assembled to look a _certain_ way. One would think that molded metal and twisted wire couldn't be affected by something as biological as evolution, and yet they're still changing in the most subtle ways that otherwise is strictly limited to eating, breathing creatures.

RA9 was apparently coded to do more than free them… it also evolves them.

Kara's near infinite smile expresses cute little lines and a single dimple it's never had before. A ruby hue lightly dews Alice's cheeks like a true child's (which quite frankly is adorable as shit, everyone wants to grab them between pronged fingers and squeeze them. She's hidden behind her mom more than she had before when strangers near send that wide grin and admiring eyes her way.) Chloe's pristine hair now has a few blended streaks of _dirty_ blond, offering slightly deeper shades that seem to look different every time she turns her head.

Circular LED's have even just fallen off without reason, as if they were never meant to reside on said plastic temples before, like stickers with worn out adhesion. You can always tell when they're about to drop. The red and blue lights just… stop working.

There's only a few known exceptions to this unnatural occurrence: select members of the original Jericho crew, such as Markus, North, and Josh. And Connor, too. Or maybe it's that they've already changed and not known yet? After all, they do originate from the first wave of deviants: generation _A_.

North makes it her job to watch the little things about everyone at New Jericho, including their minor physical changes. Without an official position to dwell energy and time on, it makes the day more interesting and pass faster when there's still the option to watch everyone like the nosy girl she is. Their routines, their habits, their evolution into who they really are (and the small changes RA9 has given them to reflect their true souls). If anyone has dirt, or praise, on residents, it's North.

Today's no different in her self-assigned role. Hours diminish by like they normally do as she times their actions, mentally recording each of their routine. It's almost time for Connor to arrive, and boy is he one of the most punctual ones when it comes to that. Never late, never without the need to serve his people in duty. The clock ticks five o'clock, and to no surprise, the door opens, revealing his ever-so-diligent self.

When he nears closer to her on the way to his station, though, there's something different about him… His outfit? No, it can't be. Dark blue jeans, a jacket and a hat is his typical winter wear. And it still baffles her as to why he dresses so thick when cold weather shouldn't be an uncomfortable factor to their kind.

Or perhaps his expression. When North reads his eyes and lips, they're the same as they always are: determined, focused, neutral. A poker face that could get past even the best.

The closer he gets, though, the more a sense of change waves over his entire image. Connor pauses just a few feet before her, removes his beanie in the same courtesy he always portrays and intentionally looks her square in the eyes. Perfect! Now she can spy on every detail embroidering his oddly unkempt presentation, although she can't quite put a finger on what it is.

"Hello North," Connor starts. It's oddly comforting when he does that, like he's talking _to_ her instead of at her.

"Your… hair."

That's it! Although it's not exactly an appropriate first response to being greeted so respectfully. The words just involuntarily came out, vocally solving the mystery that had pondered her mind since he stepped through the door.

"My hair?" he asks, eyes squinted as his head tilts to her words.

North leans up for a closer look. "Yeah, your hair. It's _wavy_."

Connor lifts a hand to his head, fingers running backwards through brown locks, but he doesn't look away from her gaze. "North, my hair has always been a little wispy. Nothing new there. Are you okay?"

"No, no! _That…_" North continues in a firm tone, finger sternly pointed to his forehead, "is more than a wisp. You could surf waves like that!"

His brows furrow as he pulls the bit of hair up front he can down and in view to inspect it. "What the fuck?!" With a gasp, the detective scrambles to the nearest sink and mirror he can find – ironically only a few doors down the hall to their left.

Now North _really_ isn't sure what to say or do. That state of haste, and oh-how-wide his eyes flew open the moment he saw those suddenly unfamiliar brown strands! She sort of wishes she had a camera to prove to the others he CAN be frightened, if fright is what it's called. So instead, she remains still in the same spot she was when he fled. That little devil can't hide forever, and especially from her.

_This is real black mail_.

A few yelps later, she hears the water running. Sneaking and leaning closer to the washroom entrance – because spying is her profession at New Jericho – North makes out his panic in words now.

"_Shit, shit, shit!_" Connor mutters under shaky breath from the other side of the cracked door.

North wonders if maybe she should try to calm him down – the notice was never meant to startle him this much – but the other half relishes the show and wants to soak in all this pure, rare reaction (well, okay, maybe swearing isn't pure, but _still_). It's a moment that quite frankly, will probably only happen once in a blue moon, and it's just her stroke of luck to be there for it.

It's actually kind of cute, too. For once, his human side shines like the sun.

That is, until the sound of a bucket and cleaning supplies hits the floor, evident from the can that comes rolling out of the room, landing just by the hat he'd dropped in the hallway. With a sudden jolt, now it's her eyes that fly open as he lets loose more than he has his entire stay in Jericho.

"GOD DAMN FUCKIN' HAIR AND…!" Connor ends his short, but intense rant with a muffled growl. Judging from the following thud, maybe even the sink has cracked as much as him. At least North knows who to blame if water starts trailing the floor. He wails something audibly distraught, not very well masked by the sound of supplies being picked up and put back in said bucket.

The show is gold, but curiosity is a bitch when North simply can't wait any longer, she just has to barge in now. She grabs the can of air and quietly pushes the door open. A glimpse into the room reveals Connor kneeled down, straightening a corner of supplies as he mutters incoherently.

"Are _you_ okay?"

With a sharp gasp, he's promptly standing tall on his feet again, stiff as a board. "N-North!"

Her hazel eyes can't help but to rise to his hair again. The prior, single large wave has multiplied into an entire top layer of fluff and shag and pure, beautiful _curls_.

She can't stop is the burst of laughter that nearly makes her double over with arms crossed around her abdomen to catch herself from falling. It's hard to breath when she rises back up, wiping tears from her eyes. "Cyberlife's most advanced model actually evolved! And it's so fluffy!" North exclaims through a shit eating grin. The temptation to lace her fingers into the twisting, spiraling strands and scruff them around is difficult to resist.

"North! It's not funny! Everyone else got pretty highlights and blush and dashes of freckles and-"

She raises her palms in resign. "Connor! It's okay, really! In fact, it's actually kind of cute."

The pleading he returns is simply priceless: slumped back, darting eyes, the little crease on his forehead when his brows draw together. "You can't tell Markus, or Simon, or Josh. Or anyone in Jericho for that matter! They won't take me seriously if I'm fluttering around all.. _cutesy_!"

Definitely. Blackmail.

"Alright, _Shirley Temple_, I've got just the thing to tame that beast." North kneels down, picks up the dropped beanie, and promptly slides it back over his head the best she can. It's a long reach, but the relief in his sigh is worth the struggle when broad shoulders finally drop back into relaxation. Especially when he starts patting his hair down through the woven cotton, but little is she going to consider telling him how futile that effort is.

"It's called a flat iron," she continues. " And I have one I don't actually need, that is, if you don't mind pink with gold crowns. Just don't turn it up too high. I best not see you coming in with burn marks on your face! And don't worry, it's our little secret." She winks and extends an open hand toward him. In silent agreement, they exchange a firm, but grateful, glance. Before he can meet her halfway with his hand in return, she rears her palm back last minute, one finger raised. "Just one thing though!"

Connor's jaw drops, but he keeps a hold of her gaze, quiet in the notion that this is indeed a debt.

"A full day in the cop car with you... AND a session at the shooting range!"

He scoffs at the request, posture rising once more as he crosses his arms, a completely different vibe from the scared little boy he was earlier. "Just one? Pah! I'll give you two."

"Deal!" She sticks her hand back out and they shake, the grasp firmly rising and falling back down for good measure. "Now get out of here, Curly Sue. Before I go tell Markus."

The empty threat earns a glare from the detective. Little undercover curls keep trying to peep from under the hat and Connor keeps tucking them back in when they flip up and out. Dirt like this is almost uncontainable when it comes to his.

"Just kidding!" she affirms. He's just _so sensitive_ about this new found feature. One day, the dwelling worry is going to wear off, he'll accidentally show up ah naturale and she'll get to relish in the fact that she was the first one to see it, a platinum trophy to flaunt in the crew's face.

Connor's long dismissed the notion, though, having promptly disappeared into wherever his secret hole is. Two days of playing 'police' and a secret inside joke to share with a newly humiliated Connor, all in exchange for her unused flat iron? _Totally _worth it.


End file.
